The Dangers of Deconstructing Faith

Hey Friends,
Let’s grab the proverbial cup of coffee – strong, mind you, like the kind that’ll keep you up all night wrestling with angels – and let’s talk about this thing called deconstruction. It’s the word that seems to be on everybody’s lips these days, doesn’t it? Like some catch-phrase or a brand new invention – which it’s most certainly not. It’s like getting fixated on a new pretzel shop but instead of enjoying the twist, we’re twistin’ scripture, turnin’ it inside out salt and all, lookin’ at it under a microscope, tryin’ to figure out if it’s really… real.

Now, I understand the impulse. I do. We’ve all got questions. We’ve all got those nights when the darkness seems thicker than molasses and we’re cryin’ out, “Where are you, God?” Life throws us curveballs, and sometimes, the Sunday school answers just don’t cut it anymore. They feel… flimsy. Like a screen door in a hurricane.

So, we start picking at things. This doctrine, that verse, this preacher’s sermon. We start pulling at the threads, trying to see if the whole tapestry of faith will unravel. And sometimes, dear friends, it does. Or at least, it feels like it does.

See, the danger of deconstruction, as I see it, isn’t the questions themselves. Questions are vital. They’re the engine that drives us closer to truth. Even doubt, in a way, can be a form of faith, a wrestling with the divine. Like Jacob at the Jabbok, we grapple with God, trying to pin Him down, to understand Him, to make Him fit into our neat little boxes. It’s funny that even that part of the Jordan river “Jabbok” means to wrestle with…but I digress.

But the big danger lies in what we replace the old with. If we tear down the house of our faith brick by brick, what do we build in its place? Do we leave an empty foundation, swept clean by the winds of cynicism? Or do we try to cobble together something new, something that suits our modern sensibilities, something that feels… comfortable?

Comfort, now, that’s a tricky thing. Jesus didn’t exactly preach comfort, did He? He talked about taking up our cross, about losing our lives to find them. He turned the tables, challenged the status quo, and consorted with the outcasts. Comfort can lull us to sleep, make us complacent. It can blind us to the very things that make our faith vibrant and alive.

Perhaps because there is comfort in our Western concept of Christianity we have created this space for complacency, while the fastest growing Church can be found in places of discomfort like African, South America and Asia…

Deconstruction, without a sincere desire to rebuild, can lead to a kind of spiritual homelessness. We wander in the wilderness, lost and confused, clinging to fragments of belief like driftwood in a storm. 40 more years, wishing we could just start over. We become so focused on what we don’t believe anymore that we forget what we do believe.  Does that make sense?

Now, I’m not saying we shouldn’t question. Far from it. But let’s be honest with ourselves. Are we genuinely seeking truth, or are we just looking for an excuse to walk away? Are we willing to actually wrestle with scripture, to engage with the great thinkers of the church, to do the hard work, to pray with all our might for understanding? Or are we simply cherry-picking the parts that suit us, discarding the rest like unwanted leftovers…or some kind of fast food ala cart menu?

The Christian faith, at its heart, is a story of redemption. It’s a story of grace, of love, of forgiveness. It’s a story that’s been told and retold for centuries, a story that’s sustained countless souls through trials and tribulations. And while it’s okay to question the way we’ve interpreted that story, or the ways it’s been twisted and misused, let’s be careful not to throw the baby out with the bathwater.  

What do you think about this topic? Please join the conversation and add your comments below, we encourage a healthy dialogue.

Grace and Peace
-Pastor Scott.